


Arthur, Professional Troll

by night_reveals



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Sex, Crying Wolf, M/M, Teasing, Trolling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-05
Updated: 2012-07-05
Packaged: 2017-11-09 05:19:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/451778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/night_reveals/pseuds/night_reveals
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Oh wait, wait wait," said Arthur into the pillow for the second time that night, gasping and slapping a hand down onto the bed.</p><p>(Arthur is a sex troll.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Arthur, Professional Troll

"Oh wait, wait wait," said Arthur into the pillow for the second time that night, gasping and slapping a hand down onto the bed.

Gritting his teeth so hard he felt in danger of lockjaw, Eames grabbed his prick in one hand and placed his other on Arthur's arse, like he could both hold himself back and push Arthur away. Instead his fingers gripped the skin there, mottling it. Somehow he stopped his slide in, the head of his prick lodged firmly inside Arthur and the condom covering his exposed shaft glistening in the low light of the hotel room.

Eames had never so completely identified with Sisyphus in his entire life.

"'m waiting," he said, breathing out sharply and shutting his eyes. He had to make this good for Arthur; he already knew that he wanted Arthur in his bed again and again even with the hours of foreplay and loosening included. Throughout their acquaintance Arthur had been a smug little shit, but the misgiving Eames had earlier about Arthur being untested gained a bit more traction, and Eames worried at his lip. He would have felt bad about possibly taking Arthur's virginity in a seedy motel in Toronto if he could have thought past _don't move don't move don't bloody move_.

"Sorry." Arthur sounded shaky and almost unsure."You're just. Big." Perhaps they should have done this with Arthur on his back so Eames could have seen his face and read him better -- but no, watching Arthur pant and squirm would surely have been even more unbearable for Eames than this. As it was Eames could barely control himself watching the long line of Arthur's back shake and arch under him, begging for Eames' touch but refusing to open up to Eames' gentle prodding.

"'s alright," lied Eames. It was probably one of the least convincing lies he'd ever told, but Eames couldn't remember a time when he’d had a bigger case of blue balls, either. "Can I -- " Eames readjusted slightly on the bed, feeling a bit ridiculous with himself a quarter of the way inside Arthur's lovely, tight arse.

Under him Arthur moaned before tightening up further. Eames struggled valiantly to not swallow his own tongue, and took Arthur's abrupt movements as a "no".

The situation was almost enough for Eames to wish his cock were a bit smaller so that Arthur could take it better. He'd never had problems before -- he wasn't a horse or anything, simply rather thick. Twenty was also rather old to lose one's virginity, wasn't it? Perhaps it was different in the States; Eames supposed it was rather draconian in some places there, and despite his best efforts, he still didn't know exactly where Arthur had been born. Again Eames resolved to do this right just in case.

\---

After another push into Arthur, Eames heard the dreaded words:

"No, no." Voice high and broken, Arthur curled his fingers in the cheap sheets, testing their strength. "Pull out."

For one awful second Eames imagined himself being the kind of person Arthur had once thought him to be. That person would have pinned Arthur to the sheets and listened to him sob, forced Arthur's body open, and taken what wasn't on offer. Eames was many things: a good forger, a reluctant murderer, and a horrendously bad son. He refused to add rapist to that list. 

He pulled out, shaking and sweating. 

Beneath him Arthur ducked his head, avoiding Eames’ eyes.

"Let me get on my back," Arthur said, slipping a hand back to hold his arse open as he switched positions fluidly. Eames wanted to sob at the sight.

"Are you," _don't do it, Eames, don't do it you big lug, it took you months to get here and you're going to ruin it all,_ "sure you want to do this? We can give it another go later. Or we have more condoms. We can switch."

“No.” Arthur sent Eames a look. “I want it. It’s just been awhile since the last time I did this.”

Relief and a twinge of disappointment at the fact that there had been a “last time” ran through Eames, the former quickly winning and giving way to lust as he looked down at Arthur spread out before him. Arthur was holding his own legs up to his chest, one foot socked and the other bare, his eyelashes brushing his cheeks and his gaze now fixed on Eames.

“Never mind,” said Eames in a mix of kindness and gruffness, taking what felt like his millionth deep breath. “We’ve got to get you open.”

Shuddering, Arthur nodded, his eyes glazing over. The lube was sitting on top of the sheets from its last use half an hour ago and Eames grabbed it, slicking his condom a bit more and palming a generous amount. With one finger he circled around Arthur’s entrance, that tight little hole that Eames wanted so badly to open up and own. Never taking his eyes off Arthur, Eames gently eased in a finger, Arthur’s body clinging to him, barely yielding.

“That’s one finger again,” hushed Eames into Arthur’s ear, pushing Arthur into the mattress and replacing Arthur’s sweat-wet hands with the bulk of his body. It was a bit strange because Arthur didn’t actually feel wound too tight anywhere, and Eames wondered if the problem wasn’t perhaps psychological. “Two fingers,” he added, nuzzling at Arthur’s ear as his fingers went in easily. Arthur opened his mouth in a wordless gasp but just stared at Eames from less than a hand's breadth away, unblinking. “Three,” said Eames, nipping at Arthur’s open mouth and trembling from holding back.

His prick was close to his hand and Arthur felt so wet and open, ready for Eames to press into at anytime.

“‘mkay,” said Arthur, who sounded out of it with pleasure. “Give it to me.”

Unable to form any actual words, Eames slowly pulled his fingers and body back to line himself up, his poor over-stimulated cock prodding at Arthur’s tender entrance. Little hitched noises from Arthur greeted his tiny thrusts in, and Eames watched as the head of his prick popped into Arthur, sliding in like it had with Eames’ other partners. When no pained moans came, Eames thrust gently, getting two-thirds of the way in, the farthest so far. 

“Eames, just -- ” said Arthur, screwing his eyes shut and put a hand at Eames’ shoulder, not pushing but seeming only to want to confirm that Eames was still there.

Careful to keep himself from slipping deeper (and it had to be psychological, thought Eames, because Arthur’s body was practically begging for cock), Eames bent over and ran his hand over Arthur’s fringe, smoothing it back from Arthur’s forehead.

“Good?” he asked.

Lips swollen from kissing and sweat beading in the curve of his neck, Arthur nodded helplessly.

In one shove Eames bottomed out, fucking all the way into Arthur like he’d wanted to for months, catching Arthur’s moans in his own mouth and kissing them away. 

 

Keeping it slow was torture, plain and simple, and to distract himself Eames started talking. 

“That’s it, that’s it,” Eames said lowly, holding Arthur’s legs spread far apart and thrusting in. “You take that. Christ, you are tight.’’

His hands fisted in his own hair, Arthur jerked and panted with every move of Eames’ body, an inevitable loop of action and reaction. Letting his shoulders take Arthur’s legs again, Eames bent over, forcing Arthur’s body to stretch for and around him.

“Stop that, now.” Eames took Arthur’s hands from his head and laced their fingers together, pushing the backs of Arthur’s hands into the bed. “You’ll go bald.”

Arthur shook his head, tightening his fingers in Eames’. 

“I,” he started, before Eames garbled whatever Arthur was saying with a slow thrust.

“Yes?” Smirking, Eames looked down at where he was withdrawing slowly from Arthur’s body. At last he wasn’t the only one suffering. “Look at you now, hungry for it.”

Later Eames wouldn’t be able to explain it, how in one second Arthur’s legs went from riding Eames’ shoulders to wrapping around his waist and _pulling_. With a muffled gasp, Eames slid deep into Arthur, a sudden fuck that made them both moan.

After Eames was seated, Arthur stared up at him, intense. 

“Faster,” he said, ordering. 

Eames was quite happy to oblige.

\-----

“You ass,” grumbled Arthur, rubbing a towel over his head. “That was freezing.”

The hotel room had a tiny shower and an even smaller amount of hot water, and Eames had been quick to get up from bed for that reason. 

“Well.” Eames stretched out, self-satisfied. “I think it’s fair to say that I did work harder than you.”

At that, a strange smile spread over Arthur’s face, slightly smug and teasing. He joined Eames on the bed. 

“Your cock is just,” Arthur panted breathily in a mockery of his earlier voice, “so big! How will I _ever_ take it?”

Eames would have loved to have said that he was always sharp as a tack despite any physical impediments, but that was completely untrue: case in point being his post-orgasmic hazes, which made him forever slow on the uptake.

“You were fine that whole time?”

Wearing only a small smile, Arthur rolled his eyes and threw his wet, cold towel at Eames’ face.

“Of course I was. I can take your cock, idiot. I’m twenty, not fifteen.”

Eames blinked stupidly and then, with no prior thought given to the movement at all, tackled Arthur. 

“Don’t -- !” Arthur whipped a foot out but Eames ducked it. 

“Oh, are there rules now?” Eames darted a hand out and smacked Arthur’s bare bum with a good _thwack_.

As if the single spanking had shocked it out of him, Arthur laughed into the sheets, turning over to look up at Eames. Lined up head to toe and smiling at each other, they quieted. Eames brushed a kiss over Arthur’s lips.

“Punk,” he said, biting softly at Arthur’s bottom lip. 

“You’re just mad I pulled one over on you.”

Eames rolled off Arthur, keeping his hand over Arthur’s chest.

“I am mad about something, it’s true.”

“I'm sorry,” said Arthur, quiet and almost sincere. “I just find self-control -- ” Arthur's cheeks pinked a bit and Eames perked up. “ -- sexy.” 

Even at twenty (a time Eames remembered being completely full of himself and himself only), Arthur rarely spoke about anything concerning his life, much less his wants. _Arthur found self control sexy._ It was perfect.

“Of course you do, love.” Eames couldn’t even pretend to keep the fondness out of his voice, never mind that he’d been the one who’d suffered tragically for Arthur’s very specific kink.

“And there’s also,” started Arthur, who then seemed to think better of it. “It's weird.” Defensively, he moved onto his stomach and dragged a pillow under his head.

Eames wondered just what secrets Arthur had locked up inside himself, twisted and layered deep down. There was a certain satisfaction for Eames in unraveling them on his own, but he was surprised at how good it felt to not pilfer the keys but to be handed them. 

“Tell me.” Eames put a hand at Arthur's face, brushing his thumb over Arthur's lower lip.

"You trying so hard."

Eames must have looked confused, because Arthur pursed his lips in exasperation.

"I could feel you holding back above me, listening to me."

"I am afraid I'm not really catching your meaning."

"Jesus." Arthur buried his face in his arms, his ears going a brilliant red. "Nothing."

"Oh, but now I simply must know."

"No! It sounds stupid now. You've built it up and it sounds dumb."

Childishly Eames pinched Arthur in the side, watching him jerk once.

"Tell me," he demanded.

Keeping his face hidden in his pillow, Arthur shook his head once and then sighed.

"You tried so hard. For me."

And oh, it was beautiful. It hadn't been a joke on Eames at all but a test of sorts, and Eames sent grateful prayers up to whatever saint had given him the power to hold back and prove himself. He ran a hand over Arthur's tousled, wet hair, tucking it back behind his ear and urging him up. Arthur came mulishly, glaring at Eames as if all the problems of the world were his fault. It made Eames want to kiss him breathless, but Eames had to make sure that Arthur understood.

"You deserve that, you realize. Someone who listens to you, always."

"Yeah," Arthur said, slanting his gaze to the side and not sounding like he realized anything of the sort. “Duh.”

"Duh," replied Eames, not mockingly but gently, knowing that this wasn't something he could tell Arthur.

He would have to show him.

\---

The morning after, Arthur was sprawled out on the bed with his head perched on one hand. He drew little whorls on Eames' chest, snagging a piece of hair and pulling every once in awhile.

“I'm a little disappointed with last night, honestly,” he said as an aside.

“What?” said Eames, rousing from his doze, insulted.

“Well, the first time we fucked I was hoping my ass would ache the next day,” Arthur said wistfully, pulling at Eames’ chest hair again. “So that I'd remember it every time I sat down, you know?”

Oh. Oh, that little _shit _.__

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Rena/eternalsojourn for the beta! 
> 
> [[LJ](http://night-reveals.livejournal.com/23562.html)] & [[DW](http://night-reveals.dreamwidth.org/17674.html)]


End file.
